Left Alone
by jessicagreen
Summary: Harry is abandoned by the Dursleys.


**Title of Story:** Left alone

**Rating of Story:** T  
**Warnings on Story:** Angst  
**Brief Summary: **The Dursleys abandon Harry and leave him on the streets.

Hey you guys! Response to challenge on the Hideaway!

It was cold. Extremely cold. The numbness spread throughout his body, chilling him to his very core. His teeth were chattering and his eyelashes had bits of frost on them that obscured his vision. Not that he could see much anyway. He was practically bind without his glasses.

He hated this feeling. This horrid, wretched feeling of being vulnerable. Of being weak and helpless, unable to control his own destiny and future. Instead his fate had been determined by a pair of inhumane people that had abandoned him like one does an article of clothing they have outgrown.

That's what he was. A boot or an old sock that none wanted. No one wanted him. Was he so bad that none wanted him? He must be an evil, wicked child for otherwise why would he have been condemned to such a fate? A fate of misery and pain. Of hunger and thirst. Why was he forced to endure this pain?

It gnawed at him, this feeling of self- pity and self-doubt. What was wrong with him? Was he not worthy enough to be loved? Was he not god enough, not pure enough? He sobbed softly, cradling his aching head against his chest. Even his own parents hadn't loved him. Hadn't wanted him. Why else would they have left him with his evil aunt and uncle who had turned him out at the first opportunity?

He wrapped his arms around himself, trying in vain to ward out the cold. But the chill seeped into him, freezing his already ice-cold form. Hi eyelids grew heavy. It had been a very long time since he had slept. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had closed his eyes and simply drifted into a land of blissful slumber. But the days of him having peaceful dreams were long gone. Instead, he had nightmares, filled with flashes of bright green light and the bloodcurdling screams of a woman.

He sniffed again, this time pathetically rubbing his now reed nose on the sleeve of his threadbare coat. Or what was left of his threadbare coat. Indeed the only real pair of clothing he had on was a thick felt cap and a pair of large trousers. Everything else was ragged or torn.

He did look a sorry sight, a small creature, scantily dressed in harsh weather conditions, huddled in himself, attempting to stay warm. But the boy could have been invisible for none stopped to look at the boy. No passer by even spared a glance for this abandoned orphan, preferring to concentrate on their own lives.

This casual ignorance drove the fact of being unwanted further into the boys mind. He began to hate himself, giving into to the depression and anger that haunted his every thought. He didn't care that they didn't need him. Because he didn't need them! And if they were going to call him unworthy, then unworthy he would be.

So the boy turned to a life of wrongdoing. Of thievery and petty crime. He picked pockets and stole anything he could get his greedy little hands on. Soon, the boy developed quite a reputation. Green Eyes, they called him on the streets. He was known as the best pickpocket around. Watch out for Green Eyes, they whispered, he's steal your own head and you wouldn't even realize until you reached to touch your hair.

Before his life had gone downhill, the boy had been special. His emerald eyes were certainly rather unique, but that was not what had been so remarkable about him. He was innocent. A true innocent. Good, kind and pure, despite him believing that he was the opposite of these things

But then he was abandoned. And this was the point where everything changed. The boy's goodness began to mutate until it had morphed into evil and wickedness. His innocence had been tainted, his purity stained with the blood of impurity.

The boy could barely remember his old life. And indeed he tried his best to put it as far out of his mind as possible. What good did it do to dwell about it? After all, it wouldn't change anything. So they hadn't wanted him? Not many people did. He didn't care. He didn't. Or at least that's what he told himself. Because it was easier to be all gung-ho and nonchalant about the whole matter. Easier to pretend not to care than care so much that the pain and hurt of neglect tore at you from inside.

So that as how he conducted his days. Waking up, stealing, having breakfast, more stealing, lunch, another spot of stealing then dinner. After dinner, he would make his way to an abandoned warehouse and huddle under some blankets he had 'borrowed' from a hospital. It was far from being perfect but the boy called it his home.

As the years passed, and the boy lost all sense of goodness and innocence, e was never able to let go of one thing in his tragic past. The horrible feeling of being unwanted and unworthy of being loved. It constantly pecked at him and he knew it would his whole life, hang right over his shoulder. He would have to get used to it. Just lie he had to get used to living on his own ever since he was 10. He would adapt. He always could adapt.

The boy quirked a humorless grin and swiftly pick pocketed a man's pockets. He flipped the stolen twenty pence piece into his pouch and slowly went on his way. He had a feeling that today was going be another bad day. He tugged his unruly strands to cover hi strange shaped scar and kept moving forward. He was nothing special, he reminded himself, nothing special.


End file.
